Shooting The Breeze
by jsdeanis
Summary: Crossover fic with Farscape written for the Multiverse 2005 Jayne & D'Argo


Title: Shooting the Breeze (previously known as Life Advice - I hate naming my fics. StB was suggested by a friend and I liked it better )  
Author: Jules Rating: PG-13 - if you can watch the shows you can read this.  
Fandoms: Firefly and Farscape Summary: A drunken Jayne gets advice from everybody's favourite Luxan agony uncle.  
Spoilers: Set pre-series Firefly, just before the meeting shown in Out of Gas and Season 4 Farscape, with a mellower, more mature D'Argo. Between Kansas and Terra Firma - it took them a month to travel through the wormhole remember.  
Disclaimer: Not mine, more's the pity, for I do love them so. 

A.N. Written for Multiverse2005 for Feldman who asked for Jayne and D'Argo. Unbeta'd but tweaked before posting here. It's been a while since I wrote anything - I'm afraid Firefly kidnapped my muse, thought this would be a good way to ease myself back into the farscape fandom!

Just in case anyone is wondering what they're celebrating, I followed Firefly's example and merged two holidays - Halloween and the Hungry Ghost festival.

"You can be more."

"What the hell does that mean?"

"It's a saying, a saying that inspires."

"It's a gorram pick-up line."

"Yeah, I thought that too. Worked though. Sort of. Once. Well with one of him anyway, the other just got frelled."

"But it worked?"

"Lives changed. Words can do that."

The shift from swapping bawdy drinking songs to waxing philosophic was jarring and brought him to his senses so sharply he figured a little dulling was called for. The booze burned as he downed it, his eyes watered and he was happy with the resultant blurriness. Wondering how he got here was not his style. Existential-whatsits-thinking only got you in trouble in his opinion. Actually, any kind of thinking only led to a whole mess of bother, so he generally liked to skip that particular process and head straight for the doing. Man don't need much and that's a damn good thing 'cos man don't get much this far from the core. Only get what you can take, you gotta force the issue 'cos ain't no-one gonna give nothing to you for free. There was only instinct and hunger, and the drive to fulfill 'em would be the cause of his sitting on the lake's shore naked as the day his ma birthed him, sharing hooch with some costumed hwoon dahn at damn near two in the morning on a god forsaked dust bowl of a planet.

He risked a glance out the corner of his eye, not trusting his neck to keep his head up if he moved after all the sake and rice wine he'd drunk over the past fortnight. The fella's get up was all kinds of convincing. Tentacles and tattoos and every damn thing. Duds like that pointed either to some serious coin or one hell of a guilty conscience, dead reavers in the family closet maybe, playing fancy dress to keep their crazy-assed ghosts away.

His alcohol befuddled brain caused him to pause, caught up on that random curiosity and too damn drunk to care he decided to reach over, poke the guy's mask and slur a question, "Family problems?"

"All kinds of problems. In the grand butt-frelling scheme of the universe the family problems are probably the least dangerous. Traitorous brother-in-law begets dead wife begets lost son. Found son, fiancee sleeps with son, son leaves. I mean at least I've got my health and apparently time helps. To be completely honest I don't understand half the things that come out of John's mouth but allegedly the passing of time has great regenerative properties. I think he's frelled in the head."

"Huh."

"You said it. It gets confusing. This entire place is confusing, and I've been dren-faced on some pretty strange planets, so that's saying something. This is a frelling mixed-up reality. John said I shouldn't worry, he'd have us home by tomorrow and I should just chill, but come on, his plans never work. I mean he hasn't said much about the other wrong turns, just some drunken mumblings about a girl called Aliss, but what I've heard I don't like. I don't care what universe I'm in or whose body I jumped into, I would never think hip flares on revealing armour would be flattering. And chilling? Easy for him to say, he's used to getting completely lost like this, it's me I feel sorry for, I've got to get back to Moya, I have captain things to do. I mean the drink here's fine and I approve of the feasting but with this many humans running around no wonder this universe is a dump. You have a talent."

"Damn right! I got several! I'm good at tracking, damn brilliant in fact and ain't a better shot to be found this side of Osiris."

"Doesn't look like that gets you much if you can't afford clothes."

"It gets me seven percent. And I explained the lack of clothes. I had a hankering for a bit of trim and ain't no privacy in a shared bunk. Just didn't reckon on the thieving tchen wah is all. Had tricks to make my head spin, then she ups and vanishes with my clothes and my purse before I gets it on straight again."

"So you said before. Repeatedly. It shouldn't have happened my friend."

"I don't blame her, everyone's gotta make a living. And I ain't your friend!"

"Such indiscretions are the very reason and joy of youth, my own exploits were both enjoyably expansive and often highly immoral. However, the universe didn't seem to approve and set me on a different path. If you don't want it to kick you repeatedly in the head I'd learn to pay attention to the opportunities the universe may present to you."

"I don't need no preaching. I'm doing just fine, I can take care of myself. There's folks to fight, money to thieve, women to sex and the drink's flowing freely. All's right in the world."

"So why are you spending your festival naked next to a stranger?"

"I'm with you 'cos you thought to bring whisky when you sat your fong luh self down next to me! The alcohol's pickled your brain is what's happened."

"If I wasn't here you'd be alone. Where are your comrades? People to share the good days, these festivals with? Sing of your deeds and celebrate your life? How will you be remembered if no-one thinks of you when you are alive? You seem forgettable. I probably won't think of you at all once I leave. I mean, John's quite often insane but he leaves an impression at the very least, actually he usually leaves a trail of death and destrustion but still, it all makes an impression! Although I suppose it isn't wise to judge an entire species by one man, it's often been said that Crichton is unique. Cursed, but unique all the same."

"Damn right you don't judge me by your husband's qualities! I'm my own man! Answerable to myself and my pleasures alone. If'n you'll be wanting proof I assure you it'd be both a pleasure and a damn manly act for me to beat you senseless. Just give me a minute to find my feet and somewhere solid for the planting of them and we'll be set."

"Whoa whoa whoa. Just drink some more and consider it. A nice change of scenery, maybe some different companions? I mean you complained for an arn about your bunk mate's facial hair, maybe you need some space."

"Well it's disgusting the food he has rotting in the damn thing - it's a waste. And what are you anyway, a damn head doctor? Gwon nee ju jee du shu! I told you to stop your speculating! I figure you need that lesson beaten into you."

"I can't fight you, I'm not supposed to interface with this reality if I can help it, it just seemed as though you needed the drink and Lo'la was getting cramped..."

"I knew a Lola once - real personable. Flexible too now I've come to think on it. But I got Vera now and she does me proud, only girl I'd keep around."

"It would probably be better to tongue you, that and the alcohol would probably make you forget all this without having to inflict the old crone's drugs on you. It's a shame though, you were such a happy drunk when I arrived."

"Tongue me? It's the sexing that got me in the altogether in the middle of nowhere in the first place. I've had the drinking and the trim, now it's time for the fighting. Get this holiday rounded off right..."

The throbbing of his head provided a backbeat to Marcus' fretting and shouting.

"I ain't paying you to stand around looking gormless Jayne, we already lost a morning looking for your sorry ass. Reynolds has a haul worth stealing and thanks to your whoring he's also got a day's head start now. If you don't start earning your way your cut'll be down to five percent, I ain't paying for the privilege of carrying dead weight."

He tuned out as his trigger finger started to itch, best get ready to earn his wage then kill his employer. Just keep his head down and follow the trail, no suprises, just another day's work.

Fin


End file.
